


The Calling

by JoelJansenD



Series: Rendon Cousland [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Darkspawn, F/M, Grey Warden Joining, Grey Wardens, The Taint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 07:46:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16593761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoelJansenD/pseuds/JoelJansenD
Summary: #Dragon4geDay writing prompt for November 13thPrompt found on: http://www.dragon4geday.com/challenge-prompts-themes





	The Calling

    'I'm sorry for keeping you from your sleep, your majesty,' said Garevel. 'But I'm afraid it's urgent.' He placed a candle by the queen's bedside.  
    'What is it, Garevel?' Anora asked as she raised herself from her bed.  
    'It's about your husband.'  
    Anora looked over to her husband's side of the bed. It was empty and soaking wet.  
    'When?'  
    'Moments ago, your majesty. In the antechamber.'  
    'Thank you, senechal.' Anora quickly dressed. 'Could you summon the arcane advisor for me?'  
    Garevel nodded and left in a hurry.

Anora heard her husband's voice echo through the halls, barking orders at the palace's guards. One of the newly hired guards carried a crate filled with crossbows and munition. He ran past her in such haste that he failed to recognise her, possibly scared from whatever her husband had told him. The first time this happened, a little over a year ago, the entire castle reacted the way the young guardsman did. But as the attacks became more frequent, the castle's staff learned to remain calm.

Even in his frantic state, the Prince-Consort remained a tactician at heart. He considered every minute detail as he carefully placed his soldiers all throughout the palace, even if those details were just tricks of his mind. Anora had never gotten used to seeing her husband like this. The fabled Hero of Ferelden ran through the antechamber barefooted, wearing a sweat-stained shirt and clutching the sheath of his sword tightly. Anora slowly stepped towards her husband.  
    'Rendon...'  
    'Anora,' he said, surprised by the sound of her voice. 'I told the senechal to–'  
    'The senechal went to get Avernus, love.'  
    'What? How are we supposed to survive– You!' Rendon interrupted himself to shout at one of the guards. 'There's a tunnel in the larder leading out of the city. Bring the queen to Arl Teagan!'  
    'Rendon, please...' Anora wrapped her arms around him. 'The darkspawn are long gone, love.'  
    Suddenly, Rendon fell through his knees and slipped from Anora's grasp. A loud thud could be heard all throughout the antechamber as his head hit the stone floor.  
    'You two,' an old mage suddenly said to some guards, 'bring your prince to my studies.' He left as quickly as he came.

* * *

    'We talk about it all the bloody time, Avernus!' Anora said, growing more and more impatient with the mage's unwillingness to treat her husband.  
    'Well, perhaps you don't talk about the right things then. Remember, you have to confront him–'  
    'Avernus,' Anora interrupted, 'I'd like to remind you that the only reason you're here is that my husband wants you to be here. Give me a reason, any bloody reason, and I'll have you hanged before sunrise.'  
    'Well, what would you have me do? You and your husband should count yourselves lucky he didn't turn out worse with the things he's seen.'  
    'Lucky?' She was moments away from exploding with rage. 'You call this lucky? It's been the third time this month, Avernus!'  
    'Well maybe we *should* make him tranquil then, if it bothers you so much? No more emotions, no more trauma.'

Anora sat beside her husband, who was still fast asleep thanks to Avernus's magic. Tears started rolling down her cheek as she thought of the possibility that Avernus was right, that the rite of tranquillity was the only way for Rendon's mind to find peace.  
    'Fine,' Avernus said, sighing deeply. 'Has anything changed since we last spoke of it?'  
    'No,' said Anora, 'it's still the same dream.'  
    'Of him standing in the Deep Roads? And nothing's changed? More darkspawn, an Archdemon, maybe some additional broodmothers?'  
    'Just the same dream over and over again.' Anora remained quiet for some time. 'Although, one thing did change. He started hearing voices.'  
    'In his dreams?'  
    'No. During his... moments. But isn't that a part of being a Warden?'  
    'No, no it is not.' Avernus said. 'Well, technically yes, yes it is. But that's only when there's an Archdemon, and I really doubt the darkspawn are so eager to start another blight.'

Avernus spent a moment in deep thought.  
    'Unless...' he said, reaching for a pair of scissors. He sat down beside Rendon himself, almost pushing the queen away, and cut open his shirt. Anora watched Avernus as he examined Rendon's body.  
    'It's highly improbable, but we might as well rule it– Maker's breath...'  
    'What is it?' Anora asked.  
    Avernus leaned back, allowing Anora to see dark purple masses of blood that have formed in Rendon's armpits. 'These clots are heaps of the taint, slowly collected over time as his blood coursed through his body.'  
    'What does that mean?'  
    'It means that the taint is becoming more present in his body. How long has it been since your husband joined the Wardens?'  
    'A few years ago, during the Fifth Blight.'  
    'Impossible,' said Avernus. 'This shouldn't happen. Not for another decade at the very least.'  
    'What?' Anora lost control over her volume, practically shouting at Avernus. 'Avernus, what's happening to him.'  
    'Your majesty... I do believe that I was wrong all this time. It seems that it wasn't emotional trauma that plagued him.'

Anora wanted to scream at Avernus to just tell her what was wrong with her husband, but somehow she couldn't. It was as if a hand had reached around her throat and squeezed tightly.  
    'Your majesty, it seems that the prince is suffering from the Calling. At some point during a Warden's life, after two or so decades, the Blight becomes too present in the Warden's blood. Usually, when this happens to a Warden, they choose to venture into the Deep Roads to take down as many darkspawn as they can before they...  
    'You have to understand, your majesty, that the blight is a fate worse than death. Those who succumb to it ultimately join the darkspawn horde as little more than mindless husks. Wardens tend to choose to die fighting, rather than join–'  
    'You said two decades,' said Anora, interrupting Avernus. 'He's been a Warden for four years.'  
    'It's possible that him joining during a Blight, combined with his use of blight magic, significantly increased the taint's aggression.'

Anora held Rendon's hand. Her tears fell onto the wooden table on which he laid. She had already lost her first husband to the darkspawn, and now she might lose another to the same monsters.  
    'Your majesty,' Avernus said with a softened tone, 'there may be a silver lining to this.' Anora didn't look up at the mage, keeping her focus on Rendon.  
    'I underwent my Joining back in the Storm Age, two-hundred years ago. I've managed to keep the taint at bay and myself alive using means that some would call... questionable.'  
    Finally, the queen's attention shifted. 'I don't want to know,' she said. 'Just do whatever you can.'


End file.
